Twilight Hunter (The Execution Underground) (11 page)

He nodded to the door. “Let’s go.”

She headed out, but paused near the entryway, stopping by a photo the sicko had knocked askew on the wall during his rampage. She took it down, and he looked at it over her shoulder. The big grin she wore in the photograph highlighted the beauty of her features—he’d never seen her smile like that. The man next to her wore a puffy white shirt, like the ones on the covers of the old romance novels his mom used to read. But whoever the pansy was, he was holding Jace’s girl in his arms.

He indicated the photo. “Who’s he?”

She stared at the image, and a small smile crept onto her face. “That’s Alejandro.”

“He your cousin or something?”

A blush blossomed across her cheeks. “No, he’s a member of my pack...and my partner.”

Jace’s jaw clenched, and he ground his teeth as he contemplated punching the wall.

* * *

A
RUSH
OF
heat prickled underneath her skin. Frankie ran her thumb over the edge of the snapshot. A member of her pack, a strong Alpha male, her salsa partner and a very good friend, Alejandro Miguel Diaz was everything she
should
have wanted in a man. She’d long ago accepted Alejandro as her fate and convinced herself she would eventually come to love him, to want him. But her decision to hunt the killer, followed by Jace kidnapping her, had saved her from the long-arranged mating, and she’d never felt freer.

Without another word, Jace brushed past her and stormed into the hallway. She straightened the photo and trailed after him. His face looked strained, his mouth drawn into a thin line. She could tell he wanted a fight—and soon.

Her brow furrowed as she watched him stomp down the stairs. What was his problem? She hurried after him, following him to the Hummer while ignoring the searing pain in her hands as she gripped her bag strap.

The drive back to Jace’s apartment was long, tense and awkward as hell. Jace stared at the road with extreme tunnel vision, his fingers white on the steering wheel. His tension was suffocating in the small, enclosed space. Frankie didn’t know what caused his sudden shift in mood, but from the angered look on his face, she wasn’t about to ask. Yes, Alejandro was her dance partner. So what? She’d told Jace that she loved Alejandro only as a friend. Had their mating really made him this ridiculously possessive?

When they finally pulled up in front of the apartment complex, she leaped from the car, eager to escape the toxic atmosphere. Jace followed more slowly, stalking from the vehicle to the door. Short of steam coming out his nose, everything about him reminded her of an angry cartoon bull, ready to charge. He punched in the combination and headed up the stairs. She jogged after him, admiring how swiftly he moved despite his massive frame. She remembered the sculpted muscles hidden under his trench coat shifting beneath her hands as she lay underneath him.

She swallowed the huge lump in her throat. She needed to stop this. Even though Jace was gorgeous, masculine eye candy, even though his ferocity and passion matched her own, and even though he rocked her world in bed, he hunted his own kind.

She did the same thing, in a way, but she only hunted rogue wolves, killing them to preserve the safety of her pack. But Jace... She couldn’t help wondering whether he would kill
her
if he knew her true identity.

They reached the door with the crooked number six, and Jace stopped midstride. The door was cracked, but no light came from inside. He unclipped his gun and prepped his aim. Carefully, he nudged the door open farther and glanced inside. He slipped in, and she followed close at his heels. A loud creak echoed from the bedroom, someone stepping on a floorboard. As Jace crept forward, she inched toward the makeshift kitchen. There was no way in hell she was fighting anyone unarmed, not while she was in human form. Any old knife was better than nothing.

The sound of a large boot hitting the hardwood sent a chill down her spine as the invader stepped out of the bedroom. She hit the light switch, unsure of whether Jace’s night vision was as keen as hers.

A man as large and intimidating as Jace stood in the bedroom’s door frame. He had a wild look in his eye and a gun at his side, and Frankie’s heart paused at the sight of him.

“Who is
she?
” The trespasser’s gruff, rumbling voice shook her to her core as he pointed in her direction.

What?

Frankie’s eyes shot to Jace. “You know this guy?”

Jace lowered his gun and clipped the piece back in place, but he ignored her and answered the man’s question instead. “She’s none of your business. What the fuck are you doing in my apartment, David?”

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m looking for your sorry ass. Damon’s been blowin’ up your phone nonstop for the past hour with no answer.”

Frankie eyed the man from head to large leather boots. With buzz-cut dark black hair, a coat that could hide a load of heavy artillery and a silver Star of David around his neck, there was only one thing this man could be: a hunter. He had to be another hunter. Her head spun. She remembered Jace mentioning others before, but she’d passed it off as a bluff. Two hunters in her territory, while she was already chasing after a rogue werewolf. She wasn’t quite sure how much more she could handle.

“I never got a call.” Jace patted his pockets in search of the wayward phone. “Damn it. I must’ve dropped it.”

“Well, losing that phone has got you in some deep shit.” The hunter named David gestured to the blood on his clothing. “There’s been a double killing.”

Jace groaned. “You gotta be shitting me.”

David shook his head. “No B.S. involved. The bodies were dumped less than a mile from the warehouse. Damon’s gone ape-shit looking for you. I came by here to warn you.”

Jace frowned. “I don’t need any warning about Damon. He can kiss my ass. And what does he want me for? He took me off the case, remember?”

David lowered his eyes to the floor and cleared his throat. “Your name was carved into their forearms, J.”

CHAPTER SIX

F
RANKIE
STEPPED
BACK
and placed her hand on the kitchen counter, gripping the edge for support. The anger rolling off Jace triggered all her primal instincts. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and even though he was directing his rage elsewhere, her body urged her to shift into defense mode. His hands shook at his sides, and his jaw clenched.

David cleared his throat. “Damon thinks there’s a possibility you may be involved. He put out the word that any hunter who encounters you is supposed to bring you in for questioning. And you don’t need any extra attention from HQ or the risk of your bloodline being revealed.”

Jace practically growled. His rage made her jittery. She wanted to help him, but she suspected that her help was the last thing he wanted.

David sighed. “Look, man, I’m sorry but—”

The door burst open, and the bang as it hit the wall echoed through the small apartment. She jumped. Screws and wooden splinters from the shattered wood scattered across the floor. The man who stepped through sent chills down her spine. She backed away before she could stop herself. Cold blue eyes seared into Jace’s, and she was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of that stare. Her stomach churned.

Two other men stepped in behind the latest intruder, one with golden-blond hair, the second with his face shadowed by a Mets cap—the muscle to back up Mr. Ice Eyes. Frankie eyed Ice up and down. Not that he needed any backup muscle with his massive biceps and natural scare tactics.

“You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you? Every time I turn around you’ve fucked up again, and now I’ve got no choice but to hand you over to HQ as a suspect. You’re a disgrace to the division.”

Jace let out a harsh snarl, unable to control his anger. His eyes burned with a golden fire and he flashed his canines.

“Holy motherfucker,” Blondie said in a slow, Southern drawl.

The Mets fan’s jaw dropped. “Damn it, Jace. You’re a fucking shifter?” he said, and she heard traces of a Jersey accent in his voice.

David stepped forward. “Look, Damon, it’s not what you think.”

“Shut up, David, and move out of my way or you’re going down with him as a traitor.” The muscles in Ice’s throat strained and his fists clenched as he stared Jace down. “I didn’t want to believe it, but you haven’t left me any choice, you sadistic, woman-beating whoreson. You just signed your own death warrant, you werewolf piece of shit. Those dead girls can all trace back to you, and now I find out you’ve got the same mutation as the killer you’ve supposedly been hunting.”

Frankie yelled before she could stop herself. “Stop!”

Ice turned toward her. The power pulsating off him was staggering. Her breath caught. She fought not to step back and show her weakness. There was no backing down now. She shoved her fear aside and concentrated on absorbing the anger that hung thick in the crowded apartment air. It would make it easier for her to shift.

She willed herself to stand straight and stare him in the face. She told herself she could take him. “You can’t kill him. He didn’t murder those women.”

“Who the hell is
she?
” Jersey shouted.

Frankie shot him a glare. “You shouldn’t be asking
who,
you should be asking
what
.” She bared her canines and the wolf-gold flashed through her eyes, her pupils narrowing to thin slits.

“Just perfect. A piece-of-shit half-breed and his loyal bitch.” Ice’s jaw clenched so tight she thought his teeth might shatter.

She let out a low, feral growl. “He may be a half-breed, but I’m full-blooded, and you’ll be screaming like a girl when I rip out your jugular.”

Jace straightened to his full height and pointed a single finger at Ice. “Go on. Give me an excuse to tear you limb from limb.” His voice was disturbingly calm, but rage flew off him like darts, with Ice as the bull’s-eye.

Ice turned to Jersey. “Take the dog outside while I deal with this.”

Frankie swallowed her anxiety in one large gulp. She knew the drill. “Bring it. We’ll see who the real bitch is.”

“Take care of her, Trent.”

“Don’t make me do this, Damon,” Jace said to Ice. “We’re on the same side.”

Ice—Damon—ripped a gun from inside his coat. Hooking his finger around the trigger, he aimed straight for Jace’s head. “You lied about your identity from the very start. You were never on our side.”

Before Damon could fire his first shot, Jace grabbed hold of his wrist. He twisted the other, then swept him to the ground. The gun fell to the floor as the two men battled. Damon kicked Jace in the stomach, knocking him off balance. He stumbled back as Damon crawled toward the gun.

Jace drew his knife and threw the weapon across the room with the accuracy of a well-aimed bullet. The blade pierced Damon’s flesh between his collarbone and his shoulder. A wet stain blossomed across his black shirt, and several drops of blood hit the floor as he clutched the wound. Frankie’s adrenaline kicked into overdrive.

“I don’t beat women,” Jace said through clenched teeth. “And no one calls my mother a whore.” He threw himself forward at the other hunter.

As Frankie stared, she felt a large, iron-tight hand grab her elbow. She tore her eyes from Jace to find she was staring into Jersey’s pissed-off face. A surge of adrenaline pumped through her, and she flung her head back, using the momentum to head-butt him full-force. Pain shot through her skull, but the bruise would disappear within the hour or, if she shifted, even sooner. Jersey stumbled back and bumped into the wall. His cap fell off his head and onto the floor. She crushed it under her tennis shoe. “This is Yankee country, asshole.”

“You bitch!”

“Mind your manners.”

Deep inside her chest, her inner animal shifted as it fed off the adrenaline. She had to do something fast or Jersey would charge her. She might have him in the brains department, but even with her wolf strength, he was still twice her size and packed a whole lot of muscle. They would be an equal match. She clenched her jaw. She could beat him.

She kicked off her shoes and crouched to the floor. A look of recognition crossed Jersey’s face, and he shot forward, determined to stop her from shifting, but he was too late. Speed-shifting was her specialty. Her clothes ripped to pieces as she went from woman to wolf.

A deep snarl ripped from her throat. They stared at each other, unmoving. He stopped midstride, and Frankie seized the moment. Diving for him, she sank her canines deep into the flesh above his ankle. The nasty iron taste of human blood filled her mouth, but she held on. She jerked her head from side to side in an attempt to snap the bone.

Jersey howled in pain before he kicked her off. His boot collided with the side of her stomach, and she yelped as all the air rushed out of her lungs. He unhooked a silver chain from his belt loop and swung it around.

“You’re going to like this new necklace. I picked it out just for you.”

Frankie’s paws slid against the hardwood. She scrambled away and tried to bolt for the hallway, but Jersey threw himself on top of her. Flipping onto her side, she writhed as he wrapped the silver chain around her neck. As the metal touched her skin, igniting a scalding heat, she slashed out with her paw and slashed her nails across his face. Blood trickled in their wake.

He reared back and clutched at his face, yelling profanities. The silver chain slipped from her neck. She was free. She darted away from the screaming hunter, only to collide with another. Blondie skidded into her as he was thrown across the floor by David, who had clearly appointed himself Jace’s ally.

He looked down at her and grinned. “Sorry,” he said, as he grabbed Blondie and slammed his fist into the man’s nose.

Frankie didn’t waste another second. She could hold her own in a fight, but against several well-trained hunters with silver weapons? That was ridiculous, and she wasn’t stupid. She bounded into the hallway, ready to escape the whole thing, but a crushing hand grabbed her tail and yanked her back.

Jersey used the spare moment to slip in front of her. He positioned himself in front of the stairs, blocking her only exit. It was either back into the apartment with all the other hunters or time to teach this piece of shit a little lesson about girl power. She decided on the latter. She ran toward him and slid to a halt in front of his knees, a massive wave of adrenaline making her stronger than ever.

Before he could move, she shifted into human form and punched him hard in the kneecap. He doubled over in pain, clutching hold of his leg. She tried to crawl past him, but he grabbed her shoulder, his multiple silver rings searing her skin. She screamed and pulled away. Her skin tore where the metal had burned her, and pain radiated through her.

* * *

T
HE
SIGHT
OF
blood pouring from Damon’s shoulder sent a buzz surging through Jace’s veins, and he smiled. He didn’t give a flying shit that he’d stabbed the leader of an entire Execution Underground division or that he was getting a little too much satisfaction from the pain of his newest enemy. Beating Damon into a pile of quivering flesh would be a sweet, addicting high.

With a low grunt, the bastard dislodged the blade from his shoulder and dropped it onto the floor. “You’re going to pay for that, you worthless mutt.”

Damon lunged toward Jace, hitting him right in the belly and knocking him clean off his feet. His breath flew out of him as he hit the ground. Jace felt his jaw pop out of place as Damon’s fist collided with his face, his uninjured arm swinging like a massive club as blood from his shoulder soaked Jace’s clothes.

Jace maneuvered his legs onto Damon’s chest and thrust forward, flipping his fellow hunter to the ground. He straddled Damon’s stomach and pounded his fist into the dickhead’s nose, treating him to the same blows the bastard had just dished out. Anger pumped through him.

Damon bucked in a fruitless attempt to throw Jace off. His blood pooled on the floor, filling in the cracks between the boards. The more Damon fought, the more blood gushed from his stab wound and Jace could feel him weakening with each hit.

Damon was the best fighter in his division, or so he’d thought. Jace never unleashed his full strength in front of the other hunters for fear of revealing his identity, his unfair advantage—until now. Now he wasn’t holding back. The combination of his bloodline, natural strength and the serum all the members of the E.U. received made him a force to be reckoned with.

The bastard squirmed beneath Jace’s grip until he’d positioned himself just right, then brought his knee up hard in a low blow to the crotch, a move Damon would never normally make, a sign of how close he knew he was to passing out. Jace groaned but kept on pounding Damon’s face. Black and purple bruises were already forming across the hunter’s cheeks and around one eye.

“That was a cheap shot, you fucking cocksucker.” Jace slammed his knuckles into Damon’s jaw and felt the crack of bone beneath his hand. He grabbed Damon by the front of his shirt to hold him down. “You hit like a bitch,” he growled.

“Like your bitch?” Damon said through a mouthful of blood.

In one quick twist, Jace snatched his blade from the floor and held the sharp metal against the skin of Damon’s throat, then leaned into his face, each word sending his warm breath over his enemy’s skin. “If you
ever
call her a bitch again, your smile will run from ear to ear.” He lifted the blade and traced it across Damon’s mouth up to his cheekbone.

Damon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he spat a glob of bloody spit into Jace’s face. Jace threw down a punch at Damon’s temple so hard he swore he felt the bone soften beneath the hit. He delivered the final blow, knocking the asshole out cold. But that wasn’t enough. He wanted to kill the bastard. God, how he wanted to end this.

His fist collided with the mauled flesh of Damon’s face again, and he couldn’t stop swinging.

A large hand clutched hold of Jace’s arm and wrenched him back. “Jace, man. Stop! We’ve gotta get out of here.”

Jace’s arm kept swinging with the force of a pendulum. But David hooked him under the arms and hauled him off Damon’s limp body.

“Get a grip and let’s go. If I’m going to be a fugitive because of you, I’m at least gonna be smart about it.” He shoved Jace between the shoulder blades. “Move it. We’re wasting time.”

Hands shaking from the adrenaline rush, Jace placed one foot in front of the other. He stepped past Ash, who lay like a dead man—though on closer inspection he was still breathing—on the floor, presumably courtesy of David.

A high-pitched and angry scream echoed from the hallway, and Jace snapped to attention.
Francesca
. He bolted into the hall. Trent was standing at the edge of the stairs with five bloody claw marks slashed clear across his face as he blocked Francesca’s access to the only exit.

She must have shifted, because she was stark naked, her hair in total disarray. Blood trickled from her collarbone, where her skin was raw. Trent had used silver on her. Jace snarled.

Francesca growled, an animal sound from her human throat. “Move out of my way, asshole.”

Throwing herself against Trent, she knocked him down. Despite how small she was in comparison to him, she held his throat between her thighs and beat his face with her fists. He gasped for air as she cut off his breathing. She snarled and drew her hand back. The air bent and quivered with energy as her hand shifted into a wolf’s paw while all the rest of her remained human.

At the sight of her claws, Trent managed to throw her off. She flew back into the wall. Her head hit the plaster with a loud thump, and Jace shot forward, but David beat him to the punch with those long-ass legs of his.

David pulled his .40 from his jacket and aimed it straight for Trent’s head. “Get out of here.”

Trent didn’t move. He stared David directly in the eye.

“I said, get the fuck out.” David fired a shot right past Trent’s ear. Trent stumbled to his feet and down the stairs as he clutched at the side of his head to cover his throbbing eardrum. David gave a satisfied smile and slipped his gun back inside his jacket.